


Channel Change

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreams, Episode: s05e08 Changing Channels, Gen, Role-Reversal, canon change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gabriel is the plucky little angel trying to save the Winchesters from the Trickster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Channel Change

 

 

** Channel Change **

 

 

_**The thing is, dreams are the way your subconscious passes on messages. Usually they're things you don't want to know but really ought to, so your brain finds a way of smacking you in the face with them so that you can't keep ignoring whatever it is you want to pretend doesn't exist.** _

_**Considering that I'm the Messenger, and that I've kind of been ignoring a lot of things for a while, it makes sense that I'm one of the few angels that dream, right?** _

* * *

The Winchesters had been missing for three days when Gabriel went looking for them.

It wasn't the first time they'd disappeared off the grid, so he wasn't unduly worried at first, but when there was still no sign of them and he couldn't reach their cell phones, he realised that something was wrong.

It took Gabriel an entire day to work out how to find them and get to them; there was something blocking him, something powerful. But Gabriel was obstinate, and he'd given up everything for the Winchesters, so he wasn't about to lose them now.

Breaking into the artificial sub-reality was hard, but hey, what wasn't?

He strode in to see the brothers in what appeared to be some kind of game show.

"Gabe!" Sam sounded pathetically grateful to see him, which normally would have caused a warm feeling in Gabriel's chest, but right now he was too busy being confused and annoyed.

"Gabe?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Gabriel demanded. "You two have been missing for days, I've been looking everywhere. Is this a _game show?_ "

He sent their surroundings a bewildered glance.

"Never mind that, get us the hell out of here!" Dean shouted.

Gabriel stepped forward, reaching for them, but before he could touch them there was a wave of power and he was suddenly somewhere else.

He paused, warily. Whatever had been trying to prevent him from finding the boys had just relocated him, and he didn't know where or why.

Looking around, he thought that his surroundings looked like New York. The constant crowd flowed around and past him, a few of them jostling him as he went by, but he was fairly certain that they were all constructs just like the rest of this sub-reality.

Gabriel tried to feel his way back to the Winchesters, but before he could concentrate for long enough, there was a sudden explosion in the building to his left, and he was forced to duck bits of flying debris.

People ran, screaming, and Gabriel straightened up in time to see a young man hurled through the hole in the wall into the street at great velocity.

Another man strode through the hole behind him, smirking, his fists glowing orange, and as Gabriel watched the first man staggered to his feet, his own fists lighting up with blue.

"Oh, I do not have _time_ for this," Gabriel muttered, right before the next explosion flung him helplessly backwards and slammed him into the asphalt.

* * *

Trapped in TV Land, Sam and Dean were getting increasingly desperate.

"How long do we have to keep doing this?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," said Sam. There was applause from the invisible audience. "Maybe forever?"

This time the audience laughed.

"We might die in here," Sam added, voicing the fear that had been nagging at both of them since this had began.

The unseen audience laughed again.

Dean snapped.

"How is that funny?" he demanded, only to receive more laughter. "Vultures."

The laughter cut off and was replaced by applause as the door suddenly opened and Gabriel walked in, looking battered and frantic.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked worriedly. There was blood trickling down the side of Gabriel's face.

Gabriel didn't bother to respond, his focus on more important things.

"Listen guys, I don't have much time," he said urgently. "It's going to be back after me any minute – but something's not right, okay? This thing's _waaaay_ more powerful than it should be."

"What thing?" Dean asked. "The Trickster?"

"If it _is_ a Trickster," Gabriel said darkly.

Before he could continue he was suddenly flung back into a wall by an invisible force.

"Gabriel!" Sam cried out.

The Trickster strolled in, wearing his customary tie-and-trenchcoat ensemble, looking calm and collected, a slight smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.

"Sam. Dean," he said, and the unseen studio audience went wild.

Gabriel scrambled to his hands and knees, glaring. His mouth had been firmly duct-taped shut.

"Hello Gabriel," the Trickster said with a smile, and Gabriel vanished.

"What did you do with him?" Sam demanded.

"He is unharmed," the Trickster replied. There was a flash of mischief in his eyes that belied his poker-faced expression, and he added, "Well. He is _most likely_ unharmed. Sometimes I lose concentration."

Sam scowled angrily.

"All right, you know what?" snapped Dean. "I am done with the monkey dance, okay? We get it."

The Trickster tilted his head, inviting Dean to continue.

"This whole thing. Playing our roles, right? That's your game?"

The Trickster tipped his head back a little to gaze at Dean contemplatively.

Damn monster always looked so annoyingly _calm_.

"Yes, and no. It's half my game."

"What's the other half?" Sam asked.

The Trickster shrugged.

"It's really very simple. Play your roles out in the real world. Say yes to Lucifer and Michael."

The two hunters gaped at him. He simply looked back.

"You're jumping on the 'end the world' bandwagon?" Dean asked incredulously. " _You_ , the wine-drinking, candy-loving, Trickster?"

The Trickster shrugged again.

"It can't be stopped. Might as well get it over with."

"Whose side are you on?" Sam asked furiously, not believing a word.

The Trickster looked at him.

"I'm not on anyone's side."

"Yeah right," Dean scoffed. "You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?"

To their slight surprise, the normally-composed Trickster gave Dean an intense, angry stare.

"I am on neither Lucifer nor Michael's side. As far as I am concerned they are both complete dicks. Suggest that I work for either of them ever again and I will ensure you regret it, Dean Winchester."

"Oh, you're somebody's bitch," Dean sneered.

The Trickster's eyes flashed, and the next moment he was right up in Dean's face.

"You should show me some respect," he growled, his voice lower and more gravelly than Dean or Sam had ever heard it. "Listen very closely to me, Winchester. You and your brother are going to accept the fact that this situation is your fault and your responsibility, and you will act accordingly. You _will_ accept your roles as the Vessels of Michael and Lucifer."

"And if we don't?" Sam asked, knowing that it would be nothing good.

The Trickster shot him an intense stare.

"Then you will remain in TV Land forever."

He snapped his fingers, and the two brothers found themselves in yet another TV show.

* * *

Two shows later and Sam had been turned into the Impala. Despite the fact that they had definitely staked the Trickster, he obviously wasn't dead.

"Okay, so the stake didn't work," Dean grumbled.

"Maybe the stake didn't work because it isn't a Trickster," Sam said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"You heard Gabe. He said this thing was too powerful to be a Trickster."

Dean thought about it.

"And did you notice the way he looked at Gabe? Almost like he knew him."

"And how pissed he got when you brought up Michael and Lucifer," Sam added.

Dean's eyes widened as it clicked.

"Son of a bitch," he swore.

"What?"

"I think I know what we're dealing with," he said grimly.

The two of them began to plan.

* * *

Dean took a deep breath.

"All right, you son of a bitch!" he yelled at the sky. "We'll do it!"

Just like that, they were no longer alone.

The Trickster ran his eyes over Impala-Sam speculatively, his mouth twitching slightly, before looking at Dean.

"Let's go," he said, stepping forward, but Dean stepped back.

"Whoa," he said, "not so fast."

The Trickster paused, and frowned.

"Nobody's going anywhere until Sam has opposable thumbs," Dean added stubbornly.

The Trickster's mouth quirked a little in irritation.

"I don't see that it matters. Lucifer's going to ride in him anyway."

Dean glared.

The Trickster rolled his eyes, but snapped his fingers, like he couldn't be bothered arguing.

The Impala was instantly replaced by Sam in his usual shape. He felt his body reflexively.

"Can we _go_ now?" the Trickster asked, giving them a definitely irritated look.

"Just tell me one thing," Dean said. "Why didn't the stake kill you?"

"I _am_ the Trickster," the Trickster said, like that explained everything.

"Or maybe you're not," Dean told him.

Before the Trickster could respond, brows furrowing, Sam lit his cigarette lighter and tossed it down.

The circle of holy oil, difficult to see on the dark ground, instantly caught alight. The Trickster's gaze followed the blossoming path of the fire for a moment before he returned it to Dean.

"Is there a point to that?" the Trickster asked calmly.

"Yeah. You're an angel."

"That is ridiculous," the Trickster said. But his gaze darted between them.

"Right, well, maybe we're mistaken," Sam replied. "Why don't you just leave the ring of holy fire and prove it."

The Trickster glanced between the brothers, calculation going on behind those blue eyes, but there was no knowing what emotion was hiding behind his habitually masked expression.

He snapped his fingers, and all three of them were abruptly back in the warehouse.

The Trickster stood, waiting, unblinking, his face impassive.

"You are more perceptive than I appreciated."

"Yeah, we get that a lot," Dean said. "So which one are you?"

He was subjected to a long stare, before the Trickster answered.

"I am Castiel, archangel of the Lord." The Trickkster's voice was even as usual.

Sam stared in shock, while Dean glared grimly.

" _Castiel?_ " Sam repeated disbelievingly. "Castiel the archangel?"

Most of the angels they'd met had been jerks, sure, but Sam had kind of hoped… that maybe archangels would be different.

Castiel threw him a ' _duh, you moron_ ,' look.

" _Obviously_."

"Okay, Castiel," Dean interrupted. "How does an archangel become a Trickster?"

Castiel shrugged.

"I wanted nothing to do with what my brothers were doing. So I left. I had to disguise myself somehow or one of the bright ones would have found me. Raphael was always good at that. If I became a pagan god, then everyone would assume that that was the source of my power, and no one would think to look behind it. Besides, who'd expect an _archangel_ to pretend to be a god?"

"If you don't like what they've been doing, then why are you helping with the whole apocalypse plan?" Sam wanted to know, frowning. "Were you lying about not being on either side?"

" _I don't care whether Lucifer or Michael wins_."

The Winchesters recoiled slightly at the force in Castiel's voice. He gave them a fierce, anguished glare.

"But Heaven has been at each other's throats for millions of years now. I'm tired of it, and the only way to end it is if Lucifer and Michael go _mano et mano_."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"You're helping them end the world because the angels won't stop with the hair-pulling?" His scorn was clearly audible.

The look that Castiel shot Dean was venomous.

"Try watching your brothers _killing_ and maiming each other over a bunch of apes and tell me that, Winchester."

"I wouldn't end the world over it," Dean retorted.

Castiel just looked contemptuous.

"You would do anything for your brother and you know it. The fact that you went to Hell for his sake merely proves this. But it doesn't matter. The apocalypse is inevitable. It will happen whether you accept your destiny or not."

"There has to be something we can do," Sam protested.

Castiel gave him a look of pity. Neither brother could tell whether it was genuine or assumed.

"There is nothing. This isn't about a war, Sam. This is about two brothers who loved and betrayed each other. Why do you think that you two are the Vessels?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked warily.

Castiel's expression suggested that he thought that they were both slow, but he explained anyway.

"Think about the parallels, Dean. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father. Lucifer, the younger brother, rebelling against his father's plans and striking out on his own. It was planned this way from the beginning. The angels have _always_ known, boys. For the entirety of our existence we have known that it would come down to the two of you, here at the end of the world."

There was a heavy silence.

"No. That's not going to happen." Dean was shaken, but resolute.

Castiel's stare was intense.

"There is no negotiation or wiggle room, Dean, Sam. I find it… regrettable, that things have to end this way, but it is destiny."

He tilted his head.

"Now why don't you let me out?"

"You're bringing Gabe back before we do anything," Sam said mulishly.

Castiel's mouth compressed at the order, but he snapped his fingers.

Gabriel appeared beside them, a little unsteadily.

"Gabe!" Sam exclaimed in concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Gabriel assured him. He turned to look at the silent archangel.

" _Castiel_ ," he said in disgust, complicated emotions flashing swiftly across his face.

Blue eyes bored into Gabriel's hazel ones.

"Gabriel," Castiel acknowledged. "How is the search for Father progressing?" He tilted his head in mocking curiosity.

"Screw you," Gabriel snarled.

Castiel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave no other response.

"Okay, we're out of here," Dean decided. "Come on, Sam."

The two of them began to head for the door, Gabriel following.

"Are you planning to leave me here forever, Dean?" Castiel called after them. "Sam?"

Dean turned near the door, and gave Castiel a stern stare.

"No, we're not, because we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family."

Castiel's eyes went wide like he'd been slapped, the aloof mask finally falling from his face, leaving his genuine expression exposed for the first time since they'd met him. It was pained and raw.

Dean just reached over and set off the fire alarm.

Castiel glanced up as the sprinklers went off, but looked back at Dean.

"Don't say I never did anything for you," Dean shouted, looking back at Castiel.

The archangel's expression was wide-eyed and distraught, like a kitten caught in the rain. The water trickling down his face and down sodden wriggles of hair only added to that impression.

Castiel watched them leave, looking lost and abandoned, as the two hunters and their angel exited the warehouse without a backward glance.

It took several minutes for all of the holy fire to go out. When it did Castiel just stood there for a long moment, before he snapped his fingers and the water cut off.

Still dripping wet, he vanished, leaving the warehouse more or less as it had been before him.

* * *

_**Sometimes I really wish I could give my subconscious a kick in the pants.** _

  



End file.
